


The Game of Politics

by Telaryn



Category: Leverage
Genre: Drift Compatibility, Gen, Mob Boss Nate Ford, Mob Culture, Mob Enforcer Eliot Spencer, Mob Politics, Negotiations, Post-Episode S03e01, Territorial Acquisition
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-05
Updated: 2018-01-05
Packaged: 2019-02-28 20:37:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,605
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13279428
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Telaryn/pseuds/Telaryn
Summary: When you play the game of mob politics, you win...or you die.  With Eliot at his side, however, Nate suspects he might be able to carve out a third alternative.





	The Game of Politics

**Author's Note:**

  * For [page_runner](https://archiveofourown.org/users/page_runner/gifts).



> Prompt Used: Nate and Eliot as...whatever Nate and Eliot are - i don't ship them but they have a fascinating dynamic;
> 
> Okay, so it isn't really a prompt, per se, but did you really think I was going to look at that and NOT write the crap out of it? Whatever the show might have intended it to be, here is one woman's take on what they might have done with it. I hope you like it page_runner, and thank you for playing with us again.

Confronted by the Italian’s men – more weapons than any of them could reasonably face and survive – Nate had reached out to stop Eliot from charging into the fray and Eliot had _stopped_.

He replayed the memory in his mind for the better part of a day, analyzing it from every possible angle, and trying to decide if it meant what he thought it might mean. When he was sure of his conclusions, he called Eliot.

It wasn’t precisely the road he’d planned for them, but jail had given Nate time to think. And if the threat posed by the Italian put an urgency to his plans, maybe that was for the best. _”You think a thing to death, Nathan,”_ his father had told him on more than one occasion. _”The world respects men of action.”_

Not that he was willingly taking a leaf from Jimmy Ford’s book of the world and how to live in it, but if he was going to keep his people operating freely within the confines of Boston, he couldn’t ignore the rules of that world his father lived in either. Not anymore.

Tasking Sophie with keeping Hardison and Parker occupied and out of the way, Nate set his meeting with Eliot for the next afternoon. It allowed him time to go by a storage place he’d taken when his mother died and they’d had to let the walk-up go to the bank. There he retrieved a box of manila folders he’d never thought to crack again this side of death.

“The Five Families,” Nate said, resting his hand on the box as Eliot entered the apartment at the appointed hour. “Tell me what you know.”

In Eliot’s waking mind, his relationship with Nate was still damaged; the mastermind could see it in every line of his body. _Not broken though, are we?_ he thought, resisting the urge to grin as his hitter – his _enforcer_ \- joined him at the table. 

“Assuming you’re talking about the bozos that control the majority of the underworld activity in Boston,” Eliot began, “you’ve got the Donnellys, the O’Hares, and the McTeagues as the major players, Carters and Flynns nipping at their heels. O’Hares are the largest and most diversified. Last count they numbered over two hundred between blood family, sworn lieutenants and foot soldiers. Got their paws in everything from guns to counterfeit handbags.” He snorted softly. “They’re also the only family headed by a woman, and the fact that nobody will even whisper about challenging her tells you pretty much everything you need to know about Brigid O’Hare.”

Sophie was going to flat-out kill him when she learned what he was planning. “She would also just as soon stick a knife in me as give me the time of day,” Nate confessed. He shrugged, silently pleased at the way Eliot’s eyes widened slightly. “There’s…history there, yeah.” Not wanting to give Eliot a chance to ask, he went on, “Say I told you I was interested in a treaty – or a system of treaties – to protect us in Boston going forward. What would your thoughts be on the matter?”

Eliot crossed his arms over his chest, mulling the question over. Nate waited, giving him all the time he needed to consider his response. Alone he had only the weight of his name to work with, and that wasn’t the can of worms he wanted to open.

With Eliot at his side, though….

“What do you hope to get out of it?” his hitter asked at last.

 _What indeed…?_  
*************************************  
God, it was hard not responding to Nate when he got like this. He was fired up about whatever was going on his head, and whatever it was he needed Eliot’s insight to make it work – not his fists.

 _Okay, not just the fists…_ But a treaty – or a system of treaties – it wasn’t the worst idea Eliot had heard his leader float in the two years they’d worked together. Not by a long shot, depending on how Nate answered his question.

“To answer your question straight off,” Nate said, “I want to give us the freedom and space to continue to operate as we choose. Beyond that, going after Damien Moreau puts us on a much larger stage than I’d ever planned on. It would be nice to have some additional resources to draw on.” He took a seat at the table at last, and gestured for Eliot to join him.

“There are rules governing this kind of thing, of course,” he went on. “Rules I suspect you’re at least passing familiar with?”

Eliot allowed a small smile to soften his expression. “You can’t make this work without me. Otherwise you’re operating from a position of weakness and that gets you nothing but run over.”

Nate nodded. “I could threaten them with Hardison or Parker – or hell, even Sophie, and eventually make my point – but yours is the skill set they respect.”

Enforcer. It wasn’t the first time Eliot had played the part – nor, did he suspect, would it be the last time. “I know the McTeagues have been sniffing around the bar since John McRory died,” he confessed. “Cora said she’d told you about it, so I didn’t make a scene.”

“That’s actually what got me thinking in this direction,” Nate admitted. “I didn’t want to do it, but I’ve already had Hardison make me a full partner in the bar – with Cora’s consent, of course. If it becomes necessary I’ll also go on the title for the building.”

The McTeagues were primarily gun runners, Eliot recalled from his research. _Not ideal, but also not likely to see us as a threat to their trade._ “Any history with the McTeagues we need to worry about?” he asked at last.

Nate snorted softly. “No, thank God. Sons only in that family. And, between them and Brian Donnelly’s crowd, Patrick would have been my first choice too.” He flipped the top off the box. “Do you see anything worth pursuing with Carter or Flynn?”

Eliot shook his head, moving in closer as Nate began extracting files. “Frankly I’d just as soon run both of them out of town,” he said. “Drug dealers and pimps – the only reason they’re here is because they’re filling a void the big three don’t want to fill for themselves.” His heart skipped a beat as he saw Nate consider what he’d said, then he exhaled softly as the mastermind shook his head.

“Future goals,” he said, handing over the last file and putting the top back on the box. “Right now I just want to survive the next six weeks. Okay – that’s everything my father had assembled on the McTeagues and the Donnellys before he went to prison this last time. Familiarize yourself with what’s in it, and before we have another soul knocking on our door looking for help I want a plan we can put in motion to get this done.”

There was only one thing left to settle, before he could sign on fully to what Nate was proposing. Reaching out, Eliot took him by the wrist – startling him into eye contact. “I’m not going to carry. Not even if it helps sell our position.”

Nate met his gaze squarely. “I will never ask you to pick up a gun for me, Eliot. That isn’t who we are. That isn’t who I ever want us to be.”  
**********************************************************  
They told the others together, Eliot reassuring Sophie that of all the plans Nate had masterminded in the past two years, this was actually one of the more reasonable. He read each of the files Nate had given him, then passed them on to Sophie for any insights she might be able to glean. Nate set Hardison to gathering as much current information about Patrick McTeague as was available, and once they managed to pin down the crime boss’s schedule sent Parker into action.

“We need a better read on this one,” Sophie told them three days into their preparations. She spread the file she’d been reviewing on the table between them and pointed to a photo of Seamus McTeague – Patrick McTeague’s grandson, and by all counts his chief lieutenant and enforcer. “Presumably any treaty we negotiate will pass to him to honor, so his grandfather is going to listen to whatever he has to say.”

“What are you thinking?” Nate asked.

“Basic honey pot,” she responded. “Nothing too involved – just enough to get a better idea of who this man is and where he stands on his family’s business.”

Nate’s attention ticked to Eliot. “You’ll have to be the one to back her up. If I’m seen making contact before we put our proposal out to the McTeague, it’s bad faith.”

Eliot nodded. “He and I would be considered equals though, so any casual contact with me is less threatening.”

Nate gave his blessing. Over the next week, grifter and hitter contrived to run into Seamus McTeague on two separate occasions at his favorite bar. Sophie made contact first. “Single, but not interested in random hook-ups with strangers,” she reported the next morning, after a pleasant evening of drinks, flirting and intelligent conversation. “He seems very aware of his responsibilities – doesn’t let his guard down easily.”

Eliot confirmed as much after a similar evening watching the Red Sox play. “He also doesn’t drink near as much as I think he wants people to believe he does. Smart.”

The next night, over a platter of Eliot’s fried chicken, they finalized the plan. Eliot would deliver the invitation, and if the McTeague accepted the sit-down would be in the back-room of the bar downstairs. “He’ll appreciate the history of it,” Nate said.

Nobody but Nate and Eliot would be physically present, and between them only Eliot would be wearing his comm. “I can’t negotiate effectively with all four of you offering commentary in my ear,” Nate said, when Sophie opened her mouth to argue. He did allow Hardison to monitor the meeting to whatever degree the hacker saw fit.

“And if our final piece is ready to be put back in play?” he asked, looking across the room pointedly at Parker. The thief feigned surprise for a moment at being called out, but then dug in her pocket and tossed something small and glittering at him. It arced through the air, straight into Nate’s hand. He studied it for a moment, then slid it into his pocket.

“Let’s go steal ourselves some territory.”  
***************************************************  
Nate and Sophie were alone in the apartment when Eliot returned with Patrick McTeague’s response to the invitation. “He thinks he’s coming into this from a position of strength,” Eliot reported, after revealing that the McTeague would be honored to accept an invitation to drink and talk business with ‘The Fixer’s’ son. “I told him your dad had no part in this,” he went on, seeing Nate’s reflexive grimace at the mention of his father, “but it’s obvious he knows it’s a sore spot for you.”

“He would,” Nate admitted, schooling his expression to something more neutral. “No problem. He’ll figure it out for himself soon enough. Did Seamus make you?”

Eliot nodded. “Smiled easily enough, but I’m sure he’s briefing his grandfather even as we speak.”

They talked over the plan for several more minutes before Eliot turned abruptly to Sophie. “Mind if I talk to Nate in private?”

She clearly did mind, and Eliot felt sorry for what Nate was going to put up with once _she_ got him alone, but unwilling to take them both on together she graciously said her good nights.

“Mind if I have a drink?” Nate asked, once they were alone.

He was already halfway to the kitchen. “Pour me one too.” _This is really happening,_ he thought, as Nate busied himself with the alcohol. There was a rightness to the way everything was coming together, and he wanted so very badly to be able to trust Nate not to fuck it up…

“You know, this means I’m going to be in your face more,” he said as the mastermind returned to the table and slid him his drink. “Not just about what you do with them,” he added. “That stunt you pulled on the ship? Those days are over.”

He thought for a second that he was going to have a fight on his hands, but eventually Nate sighed and nodded. “I can’t promise I’m always going to go in a direction you like. I still run this crew, and sometimes that means I see things in a way you can’t. But,” he continued, holding up a hand and offering a small smile. “I know what I’m signing up for with this, and I promise that I will at least keep you in the loop and consider your objections before ignoring them.”

It wasn’t everything he wanted. There was no guarantee that Nate wouldn’t come unspooled and take them all down with him again, but Eliot had to admit that it was better than he had any right to hope for, given Nate’s history.

Raising his glass at last, Eliot extended it for Nate to tap with his own. “I think I can live with that.”  
************************************************  
“I can’t believe I’m telling you this,” Sophie said the next afternoon, as he passed her his comm, “but enjoy yourself.” She swatted at him as he raised an eyebrow at her. “I’m serious. You’ll sell the con better if you don’t overthink it, and if that means giving yourself permission to enjoy what you’re about to pull off…” She leaned in and kissed him.

Eliot was already in position as he headed downstairs, and as he reached the bottom of the staircase Nate saw the last of the McTeague men enter the main area of the bar. Waiting long enough for Cora to be able to direct them into the back room, he stepped into the main area of the bar and followed them.

 _Four gunmen in addition to Seamus and the old man,_ he noted, reaching into his pocket and closing his fist around the thing Parker had retrieved for him. They’d talked about the possibility of no guns at the meeting, but he and Eliot both had agreed that it made a stronger point if they treated the weapons as a non-issue.

His nerves began to tingle as he crossed the threshold and fell into character – helped in no small part, he suspected, by his brain tagging Eliot’s position in the room half a second before he laid eyes on him. “Gentlemen!” he announced as he passed the McTeagues heading to his own place at the table. “Welcome.” Without turning to look at their guests, Nate withdrew a heavy emerald signet ring from his pocket and slid it dramatically across the table directly at the McTeague.

When he reached his chair and turned to face the man, Patrick McTeague had only just managed to pick up his ring – his face a study in confusion. “I believe that belongs to you, Mr. McTeague,” Nate said, nodding at the ring Parker had stolen for him directly off the crime boss’s finger some days earlier.

Before anyone could decide what to say, three of Cora’s best servers entered carrying glasses of the best whisky they had in stock. “Let’s share a drink,” Nate invited them, opening the bottle that had been put at his place and pouring himself three fingers of the fine amber liquid.

Everything clicked smoothly into place as the alcohol was distributed and Eliot fell into place at his side. “And once you’ve drunk your fill, I have a proposition for you.”


End file.
